


Slash of the Light Brigade - fic

by havisham



Category: Charge of the Light Brigade - Fandom, Generic WWI Drama
Genre: Death, Deliberate Bad Fic, Gen, Jumpers, Somewhat Unrelated to the Picassoesque Genius of the Original Art Work, Trauma, Who Reads Tennyson Anyway, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 01:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Theirs not to reason why,</i><br/>Theirs but to do and die:<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Slash of the Light Brigade - fic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Slash of the Light Brigade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318750) by Anonymous. 



> Couldn't put in the mid-battle make-outs. Maybe their ghosts did it?

Jumper looked out moodily to the acres of mud and filth and shit and dead bodies and rats that made up the trenches, and beyond it, no man's land. He reached out for a cigarette, but found that his pockets were empty. Jumper scowled even more deeply. The Germans had been pounded their line all day and them had to take it. He hated German pounding. And he had a headache. Where the hell was his subordinate? 

"Ragdoll!" he growled, and a faint patter of feet, and Ragdoll putting a completely unwanted cup of tea into his hands. Jumper made a noise of disgust and poured the tea into the ground, so it could return to the swill it had sprung from. He glared at Ragdoll and growled, "Where were you?" 

 

Ragdoll smiled at him meekly. "Sorry, sir. Someone was reciting some Tennyson, and I thought I would have stop and have a listen." 

"Was it 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'?" 

"I'm afraid we only know the one, sir," Ragdoll said apologetically. 

"It's shit," Jumper said, twitching slightly, as he usually did when Tennyson was mentioned. 

"Certainly, sir."

"Don't just stand there, man! Come and clean my mustache. And bring me some cigarettes." 

But before Ragdoll could do any of that, a suddenly explosion rocked the trenches and everyone died. 

It was very tragic, and pointless. 

 

Someone wrote a poem about it, later.


End file.
